Maximum Warp
by fairblue
Summary: Follows the events of the movie, and after. Kirk/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Star Trek. I own all my OC's. Quick question: Can I claim ownership of Australia if I'm a citizen? Song credit to Beastie Boys**

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_'Cause what you see you might not get_

_And we can bet, so don't you get souped yet_

_Scheming on a thing that's a mirage_

_I'm tryin' to tell you now it's sabotage_

**Sabotage**

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_**C****HAPTER ****O****NE**

Abby walked into the bar with her head held high, determined to finish her last night at the _Shipyard Bar_ without bursting into tears. She had been working and living in Iowa for the past year, and had become quite attached to the popular club and its workers. She would miss them terribly, but her time was up. She was ready to move on.

Though it was only coming onto eight, the bar was packed, filled with regulars. Abby noted the number of Starfleet cadets, not entirely surprised as the shuttle for new recruits left tomorrow, but a little anxiously. Would any of them recognise her when she boarded that same shuttle? Starfleet cadets were the best of the best, and dammit, she deserved to be one of them. Years of hard work and study had seen her pass the aptitude tests with flying colours, but all they would be able to see was her working in a bar.

Abby took a breath. It didn't matter what they thought. She'd show them she belonged. First, though, she had to finish her last shift at the bar and say goodbye to her friends without making too much of a scene.

She pushed her way through the crowd to the bar and slipped behind it. "Hey, Lew," she grinned at the bartender. "Full house, mate?" The slang of her homeland slipped from her lips easily. And every time it did, Abby was always transported back in time for a heart-stopping moment to a time when everything had been perfect and wonderful, when she had still been living at home with her family. Family was one of the things Abby held in high regard, and valued immensely.

"You bet," Lew returned, mixing multi-coloured drinks. "Hurry up, you're needed bussing tables." He was pleased the club was so busy for two reasons: it was great for business, and it would keep Abby so busy she wouldn't have time to think about leaving until she cleared the last bottle.

Abby dropped her backpack onto a chair in the back room and shrugged off her leather jacket. Under it, she was wearing black jeans, a silver belt and a tight black top, irresistibly low cut. She detested the top as it objectified her and all the other female bartenders and waitresses, but it was the uniform Lew demanded. She pulled a hair-tie from her wrist and twisted her long brown hair up into a loose ponytail, a few strands falling out to frame her face. Ready for work, Abby looked around the small room and was almost overwhelmed by a flood of emotion. Though she had only spent a year in Iowa, this bar and its people had become so ingrained in her life she suddenly didn't know how she could leave.

"No, don't cry now, Abby," she told herself forcefully. "Finish the shift. Then you can cry all you want." She scanned her ID badge beside the door, clocking on, and slipped the card back into the niche on the side of her belt where it camouflaged into the silver and became almost invisible. It was a new security measure Lew had introduced a few months previously.

"Dammit, I've lost my card _again_!"

Of course, the downside of the new ID cards was that it was insanely easy to lose or misplace them. Abby turned to see another waitress and her friend, Liz, come into the back room. She was rummaging through her monster-size handbag, searching for the illusive card. "Camouflaging ID cards, real smart, Lew," she muttered.

Abby laughed. "A drink it's already on your belt."

"I'll take that bet," Liz shot back with a grin. She was always up for a bet, and luckily so was Abby… most of the time, anyway.

"I have to go out front. Let me know when you find it, mate." Abby patted her friend's back as she walked past her and came out behind the bar. She took a quick glance of the place. The bar was packed, with too many patrons for the ten staff already there. The tables were all full, the dance floor packed. Cadets were everywhere, their red uniforms singling them out as Starfleet members. It would be impossible to avoid them.

Lew saw her standing awkwardly behind the bar, staring at the spectacle before her. "Abby, tables," he told her as he swept past, arms loaded with bottles.

She nodded and entered the fray. Abby spent the next four hours clearing tables, mopping up spills and mixing drinks, so busy she thought if she suddenly stopped her head would never stop spinning. She served so many customers she couldn't tell anymore if they were regular or cadet. A headache started to build between her eyes.

"Lew, I need a breather," she shouted at him over the music when she dropped off what felt like her millionth tray at the bar. He waved a hand in dismissal, focused on serving six customers at once.

Abby weaved a way through the crowd to the back doors and burst outside, sighing as cool, fresh night air washed over her. She took a deep breath as she took a few steps into the rear parking lot and closed her eyes, savouring the instant relief from the pounding noise.

"Hey, pretty lady," a deep voice said behind her. Abby snapped her eyes open and spun to see a tall, barrel-chested man standing right behind her, dressed in Starfleet red. "You waiting for someone?"

"Not for you, if that's what you're thinking," Abby answered, gauging the situation. The man was easily six-two or six-three, what looked to be two hundred and twenty pounds of pure muscle, and oozed overconfidence. Compared to her five-three, a hundred and ten pound self, she was sure he figured it to be an easy win for the night. He was in for a surprise.

"You sure?" he asked, leering at her as he came closer. She was so tiny; he knew that he would have little trouble in taking her. "You could have been waiting for me your whole life."

"Doubt it. Could you take a step back please? You're in my personal space."

"Baby, I am your personal space."

Abby rolled her eyes. "Okay, now that was lame, mate."

His eyes flashed. "I think you want to come with me."

"Once again, doubt it." Her mind raced for an answer to the situation that involved her escaping and him staying. Usually these kinds of things happened when she was still inside the bar, and it was easy for her to find a rescuer -- Lew -- or a distraction for the guy so she could slip away. Out here, in the parking lot, she was coming up blank for both. Before she could step away he took her arm in a tight grip, and Abby had to admit it _hurt_.

"You're coming with me. Don't worry, you'll have fun."

"Let me go!" Abby tried to yank her arm back but failed. She began to feel the first tremors of fear as she stared up at him. Usually she found a way to escape before they grabbed her, but now he had her arm, and he wasn't letting go.

"Come on, baby, relax."

Remembering a basic self-defence class Liz had dragged her to once, Abby suddenly pulled her captured arm toward herself, jerking the man closer, and brought her knee up viciously between his legs. At the last second he twisted and her knee hit his thigh instead of its intended target. He clicked his tongue. "Naughty."

"Let me go!" she cried again, trying to release her arm from his iron grip.

"Hey, buddy, she's not interested," a new voice said, and Abby turned to see a man standing nearby.

"No one asked you, farm boy," the Starfleet cadet growled. "Stay out of it."

The new man came closer. "I don't think you understand the meaning of 'let me go.' It means let me go, or my rescuer will kick your ass."

Abby frowned at the man. He looked strangely familiar.

The grip on her arm tightened and she yelped before she could stop herself. The cadet grinned evilly. "I don't think you understand the meaning of 'stay out of it'. It means back off."

The other man surged forward, lunging for the cadet. Abby used him as a distraction and slammed her heel into the cadet's instep as she turned to face him, and punched him in the face. He released her arm and she bounced back a few steps, shaking her hand to alleviate the pain shooting through her knuckles. At that moment her intended rescuer's fist collided with the other side of the cadet's face, knocking him to the ground, where he stayed soundlessly.

"Don't come back here," the man said fiercely to the fallen cadet. Abby blinked at the power of his voice. The next thing she knew the other man had taken her arm and was pulling her away to the other side of the lot.

"Ow!" she cried, and he released her immediately. He had been holding her arm where the cadet had crushed it. Abby examined her skin detachedly. The cadet had left a large red welt in the shape of a hand, and she could already tell it was going to darken into a bruise. "Great," she muttered.

"Are you okay?" the man asked.

"I'll be fine," Abby said and raised her head. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"It's you," she sighed.

Jim Kirk grinned at her. "Is this the part where you faint into my arms and I carry you away to share a night of bliss?" He knew it was fruitless, as Abby had always stood against him, but asked anyway.

Abby rolled her eyes. "Not even a minute goes by and you're already hitting on me. I think that's a new record."

Jim laughed appreciatively. "I hear you're shipping out tomorrow. Starfleet," he said mockingly, and looked back at the cadet still lying on the ground, obviously knocked out. "Good luck."

"I can handle myself, as you saw. Well, sort of. Not really. Where would you hear that, anyway?"

"Word travels fast."

"Meaning you slept with a waitress," Abby smirked, putting a hand on her hip.

He opened his mouth in mock-horror, though he knew it to be true. "I'm offended that you'd jump to that conclusion so quickly, Abby."

"One, only my friends call me Abby, and two, who was it?"

He grinned at her. "Liz."

Abby groaned. "I should have guessed." Liz was a great friend, but there was a part of her that Abby couldn't stand: she loved going home with guys she met at work. She'd sleep with them for a few nights, sometimes even a few weeks, before moving on to the next lucky guy. Jim was often a lucky guy.

"She left this at my place; I came by to drop it off." He pulled Liz' ID from his pocket.

"She left it at your place? Dammit. Now I owe her a drink."

"I'll pay for it, if I can get you one later?" he offered innocently. Hey, Abby was leaving, and tonight was his last chance to win her over for the night.

Abby shook her head, smiling despite herself. "I'm working. But you can pay for that drink, seeing as you offered." With that she turned and headed back for the door, laughing heartily.

He shook his head as he watched her disappear inside the _Shipyard Bar_. "Abby, Abby," he said to himself, mind already searching for ideas for retribution. "We'll see who's left laughing."

Once inside Abby went straight to Lew. "There's a guy knocked out in the middle of the back parking lot," she told him.

Lew shook his head, unsurprised by the information. Abby was usually involved in drunken male behaviour -- whether it was directed at herself or if she had been defending a friend, that was the question. Abby was adamant about both. "I'll take care of it. What happened?"

"Hey, he tried to drag me off into the bushes or something droll like that," she said and flashed her injured arm at him carelessly. "He deserved what he got. Besides, it wasn't me, it was Jim Kirk." She paused. "Okay, it was me, too, but Jim was the one that knocked him out."

Lew's face darkened as he saw the mark. Rough behaviour didn't fly at the _Shipyard Bar,_ unless he was the one throwing people out or if it was one of his waitresses or bartenders standing up for themselves. "I'll be back in a minute. Cover my quarter of the bar for me."

Abby watched him go then turned to face the crowd. From the corner of her eye she saw Jim walk in the front doors. He found Liz immediately and passed her the missing ID card, saying something that made her laugh. He straightened and scanned the packed club until he found Abby, his bright blue eyes striking against the darkness of the club. He weaved a path to the bar, where he magically found an empty seat right beside her workstation. Abby sighed. "Can I ask you a question?" he called to her as she served another customer.

She glanced at him as she handed a man the platter of drinks he had just ordered. "If it's, 'Will you sleep with me,' the answer's still no," she grinned.

Jim laughed. "No, nothing to do with that," he assured her. It was time to start a new approach to Abby. "This has been driving me crazy ever since you moved here. What's your accent? Where are you from?"

Abby felt herself smile as she thought of her home country. "I would have thought it obvious, mate."

Jim frowned. "South African?"

Abby groaned, but a grin slipped onto her face. "Are you serious?"

"How am I supposed to know? I asked you in the first place." Yes, Jim thought. It was working. She was actually talking to him for the first time.

She stopped pouring shots and smiled alluringly, putting her hands on the bar and leaning in towards him. "You really want to know?"

Jim nodded, his eyes trained on her face -- in particular, on her eyes. They were the colour of chocolate, and today she had them accented with a pretty blue powder on her eyelids. He shook himself and refocused on the task at hand. He knew what she was doing, and was determined to win. By leaning over the bar Abby was giving him a perfect view down her top, and being who he was, he knew she thought he would succumb to temptation and take a look. However, that would mean he failed the test. It was a trust exercise, he realised. A stupid one, in his opinion, but one all the same.

Abby waited a moment, to see if Jim would take a peek. The game was simple: if he looked, she wouldn't tell him, but if he didn't…

"I'm Australian." She rocked back on her heels and finished the last shot, passing the tray over Jim's head to the waitress behind him.

"That was a dirty trick," he said, grinning, thinking of forms of retaliation.

Abby shrugged playfully. "Yeah, well, I keep my cards pretty close to my chest." Jim began to open his mouth, presumably for a suggestive comment, and she cut him off quickly. "But, seeing as this is my last night, I figured it didn't matter if you knew. Frankly, I'm more than a little surprised. Maybe you're not so shallow after all," she said mockingly.

"Don't bet on it. And why is that?"

Abby took an order for two cocktails off a girl a few seats down and began to mix them. "Because I'm not coming back to Iowa. Once I move on I don't go back." She ignored the ache in her belly.

"I meant about your cards," Jim clarified.

She served the drinks and wiped the back of her hand over her forehead. The lights behind the bar were intense, but being from Australia, Abby handled the heat better than most. Three months after she had been hired Lew had hired another girl to be a waitress, and she had fainted on her first night from the heat. On the other hand, Abby didn't deal well with cold. At all. She had gone to the snow once as a child -- she was never going back again.

Jim stared at Abby, engrossed in her own world. What had he said to bring that lost look to her eyes? Why was she so private? Every other girl he had known had poured their hearts to him after a two-minute conversation. But not Abby. "Abby?"

Jim's question brought Abby back to reality. "Abigail, to you," she corrected him automatically. She hated using her full name, but after meeting Jim Kirk decided that she would make him use it in a small attempt to keep him at bay. He used her nickname regardless.

"Are you alright?" He didn't care for that look still in her eyes.

She blinked, and the look was gone. "Yeah, just thinking." She scanned the club, noting Lew was on his way back to the bar now. "Can I get you anything?" she offered, mentally preparing for venturing back out into the thick press of bodies.

Jim trailed his eyes over her body provocatively. "Are you on the menu?"

She laughed at his boldness. "Unfortunately for you, no. But while you're here, you can pay for that drink."

Jim rolled his eyes but pulled out his electronic tab-card and handed it to her. "Knock yourself out."

"Thanks," she said sweetly, and scanned the most expensive cocktail on the menu onto the card before handing it back.

Lew appeared at Abby's side. "It's taken care of."

Abby turned to him amusedly, halfway through mixing Liz' cocktail. "How many pieces is he in?"

Lew winked at her and said to Jim, "I heard you were looking out for this one here." He jerked his head in Abby's direction. Jim was a ladies' man, sure, but he didn't treat women like trash or force them to do things they didn't want to -- like the unconscious cadet now in the dumpster out the back up to his neck in leftover drinks and bottles.

Jim grinned. "Well, this bar is my main provider of entertainment. I was protecting an investment."

Abby grinned back. "And yet, this part of this bar has never been, and never will be, a provider of your entertainment, mate." Abby made it her personal rule to never call Jim by his name. It was just another of a series of blocks she had created to keep him at bay -- such as trying to make him use her full name.

"That's what you think," Jim said to her, "but chasing's half the fun."

Lew burst into laughter. "That it is, boy, especially when it's someone like Abby, here."

Abby groaned, but her eyes were teasing. "I'll leave you two, shall I? Thanks for taking care of that for me, Lew. Oh, and this cocktail is for Liz. I lost a bet again." She exited the bar and began clearing tables.

Not five minutes later there was a collective gasp throughout the club, followed by shouts of encouragement. Abby sighed, already knowing who was involved in whatever was happening. She spun just in time to see Jim block a punch from a Starfleet cadet and return it with one of his own. Behind the pair were two more cadets, itching to get involved. A third was already on the ground on top of a broken table.

"Hey, stop it!" she called, placing her tray back on the table, but was drowned out by the cheering crowd. Then a huge man stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the fight. Abby winced as she heard the sound of a bottle being broken over someone's head. Working in a bar, you tended to pick up on those definitive sounds.

Abby manoeuvred around the large man to see Jim was being held on a table by a cadet who was slamming his fist into Jim's face repeatedly. She winced. Why wasn't anyone doing anything? Where was Lew? Just because they were Starfleet cadets didn't mean they could beat up a guy in her bar.

She pushed forward to the front. "Hey, break it up!" she commanded.

"Enough!" A beautiful African girl hovering nearby shouted angrily. The beating went on regardless. "Guys, he's had enough!"

A sharp whistle pierced the air, bringing everyone's attention to a tall, black-clad man with the Starfleet logo on his chest. It was a Starfleet Captain. All motion ceased. "Outside, all of you," his authoritative voice commanded, "Now!"

"Yes, sir!" A cadet shouted, and all the red-covered cadets left the _Shipyard Bar_, grumbling and muttering about the unfairness of the situation.

"Great, just great," Abby muttered under her breath. "Now even the Captain's going to know you were involved in this and he's not going to like you or let you join Starfleet."

"You alright, son?" he asked Jim.

"You can whistle really loud, you know that?" Jim slurred.

Abby huffed and stepped over broken glass to Jim's table, face burning with embarrassment. "Come here," she said fiercely, gripping his arm in a brother-in-arms grip and pulled him up. "You're a bloody mess," she told him, not meaning literally, though he was, in fact, a bloody mess.

"Abby?" he asked dazedly.

"Abigail," she stressed.

He smiled lopsidedly. "I knew it was you."

"Go," she shoved him in the direction of the bar. "Go get yourself cleaned up."

"Alright, everybody, out!" Lew ordered, and everyone in the bar began to leave, grumbling.

Abby caught his eye and nodded to Jim. Lew nodded back and went to help the stupefied man. She turned to the Starfleet Captain after Jim staggered away. "I'm so sorry, sir. Usually we don't put up with that kind of stuff here. I don't know why it was allowed to continue. With all the cadets tonight it was too… crowded." The word she had in mind was _volatile_, but she didn't think the Captain would appreciate the term.

The Admiral studied her curiously. "No apology is necessary. Boys will be boys. But there is no excusing that sort of behaviour for a Starfleet cadet. They will be punished accordingly."

She considered telling him of the attack on her less than half an hour ago but decided against it, thinking he already had a lot on his plate. "I know, sir. I'm actually joining with Starfleet tomorrow," she explained quickly, "so I wanted to come over and explain myself."

"Explain what?" he asked, a strange twinkle in his eye.

"Explain that just because I used to work in a bar doesn't mean I love or encourage the behaviour that bars seem to attract."

"I don't remember thinking that."

Abby flushed. "I just wanted to clear the air. Sir," she added hastily.

"Unnecessary, but understood. I'm Captain Christopher Pike. What's your name?"

"Abigail Abrams, sir."

"And that man, who was he?" Pike asked.

Abby glanced at the bar. "That's Jim Kirk, sir."

"Jim Kirk? That's James Kirk?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes." Abby frowned. "Do you know him?"

"No," the Captain said, "but I know who his father was." He pulled out a data pad and pressed a few buttons. It beeped quietly in response.

Jim's past was suddenly interesting. "What about his father? Jim never mentions him."

"Is that so?" Pike mused, and looked up at her. "It appears you did exceptionally well in the aptitude tests," he commented.

Abby fought the blush and accepted the compliment with a small nod. "I studied my hardest and did my best, sir. All due respect, but I wasn't going to let a few tests prevent me from joining Starfleet."

He half-smiled and pressed a few more buttons on the pad. "What do you know about Jim Kirk?"

Abby took a moment to consider her answer. "He's a little rough around the edges, a little arrogant, sure. He loves a good time; has a _lot_ of lady friends. But he's a lot smarter then he lets on, I think." Her mind returned to the incident behind the bar. "And he's brave. Or foolish. Depends on how you look at it, I guess. He likes to dive right in and damn the consequences. He stands up for people that need it, and I'm sure if you asked him for help with a serious problem he'd give it. He doesn't stand for injustice." She bit her lip to keep from laughing as she remembered Jim's long-standing tab at the bar, and his rumoured criminal record -- nothing serious, just a few nights in the clink every now and then. "Well, unless it's him that's doing it, of course."

Pike nodded once. "Excuse me. I'll be seeing you tomorrow, I'd imagine." Abby nodded as he walked past her and went to Jim, who was standing beside the bar. She watched as they went to sit at a clean table, Jim sporting another drink.

Lew coughed, and Abby looked up to see him mouthing 'broom' at her. She snapped back into work mode and began clearing the mess as Liz and a few other girls began stacking chairs on tables and mopping up the spilled drinks. After barely a moment Abby gave in to temptation and strayed closer to the pair to overhear their conversation.

"You know, I couldn't believe it when the bartender told me who you are," Pike was saying.

"And who am I, Captain Pike?" Jim asked nonchalantly, a pair of tissues plugging his nose.

"Your father's son."

Abby could sense the change in mood instantly as Jim looked at the Captain darkly.

"Can I get another one?" he asked, waving his empty glass. Abby strayed closer.

"For my dissertation I was assigned the _U.S.S. Kelvin_," Pike continued. "Something I admired about your dad, he didn't believe in no-win scenarios."

Jim scoffed as he pulled the bloody tissues from his nose. "He sure learned his lesson."

"Well, it depends on how you define winning. You're here, aren't you?" Jim shrugged carelessly. "You know," Pike started, "that instinct to leap without looking, that was his nature, too. And in my opinion, it's something Starfleet's lost."

Jim laughed shortly, annoyed at the turn in the conversation. "Why are you talking to me, man?"

"'Cause I looked up your file while you were drooling on the floor," Pike explained dryly. "Your aptitude tests are off the charts. So what is it?"

Abby was surprised at hearing this. She had guessed Jim wasn't as thick as he made out to be, but off the charts? She was only in the top two percent because she had slaved and sacrificed to get there. Jim, as far as she could tell, hadn't done anything. Then again, Abby realised, she didn't know Jim Kirk at all.

When Jim didn't respond, Pike asked sarcastically, "You like being the only genius-level repeat-offender in the Midwest?"

"Maybe I love it," Jim shot back.

Pike shook his head. "So your dad dies. You can settle for a less-than-ordinary life. Or do you feel like you were meant for something better? Something special?" Jim was silent. "Enlist in Starfleet," Pike said strongly.

"Enlist?" Jim laughed. "You guys must be way down on your recruiting quota for the month. You're already snagging Abby over there." And for a reason he couldn't explain, that made him really annoyed.

The mention of her name in their conversation took all off Abby's self-control to remain impassive, as if she wasn't hearing what they were saying as she cleared away broken glass.

"If you're half the man your father was, Jim, Starfleet could use you," Pike said seriously. "You could be an officer in four years. You can have your own ship in eight."

Jim exhaled in apparent boredom. He allowed his mind to sidetrack, and found himself wondering if Abby would look as good in a red cadet uniform as the African girl, Uhura, had.

"You understand what the Federation is, don't you?" Pike pressed his point. "It's important. It's a peacekeeping and humanitarian armada --"

Jim's annoyance at Abby's constant rejection added to his annoyance of Pike's monologue until he snapped. "Are we done?" he interrupted. Abby looked up at his tone.

Pike studied him for a moment. "I'm done." He stood. "Riverside Shipyard. Shuttle for new recruits leaves tomorrow, 0800."

Jim raised his glass mockingly.

Pike gave a small smile. "Now, your father was Captain of a Starship for twelve minutes. He saved eight hundred lives, including your mother's, and yours. I dare you to do better."

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**Reviews are love :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Star Trek. I own all my OC's. And I've decided to lay claim to Australia as well. Song credit to Shinedown**

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My eyes are open wide_

_And by the way, I made it through the day_

_I watched the world outside_

_And by the way, I'm leaving out today_

_I just saw Halley's Comet, she waved_

_Said, "Why you always running in place?"_

_Even the man in the moon disappeared_

_Somewhere in the stratosphere_

**Second Chance**

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**C****HAPTER ****T****WO**

Pike inclined his head to Abby as he walked past her to exit the bar, but she barely acknowledged it as she absorbed the new information about Jim. Pike's parting words raced through her mind on repeat as she stared at him.

Jim sat at the table silently; looking so forlorn Abby felt something inside her give -- she had always been a sucker for a sob-story. He picked up a Starship-shaped coaster and studied it dejectedly.

"Lew, I'm leaving," Abby said, going over to the bar. "Don't worry about giving me a lift, I've got it covered, okay, mate?" Usually she was dropped off by her neighbour for the start of her shifts and Lew or another waitress dropped her home again after it. Tonight, though, she had another idea.

"Alright, Abby." He gave her a warm hug as she walked past him to the back room. "Good luck for the future, hey? Make us proud." He'd miss the little Aussie girl, but she was ready to move on.

"I will. Thanks, Lew, for everything. It's been bloody great, seriously," she said, smiling up at him. She went into the back room and pulled her leather jacket on, smiling slightly as she remembered the day Liz had shoved it onto her hands after her umpteenth complaint of feeling cold. After living Australia for most of her life, it seemed everywhere else was too cold -- except the Sahara Desert in Africa.

Maybe.

Abby slung her backpack over her shoulder and called goodbyes to the other waitresses and bartenders, which they returned good-naturedly, expressing wishes of luck for the future as Lew had. To her surprise she didn't feel like crying at all -- she was filled with a strange sort of excitement. When she returned to the front of the bar she was relieved to see Jim still sitting at the table, staring at the mini-Starship.

She walked over to him before she lost her nerve. "Come on," she said, drawing his attention. His bright blue eyes flicked up to hers, momentarily stealing her breath for the first time since she had known him. "Let's go," she said, turning away to the front door. Her heart was racing, body tingling with nerves. Jim had never had that effect on her before -- where just one look could make her light-headed and trembly inside. She didn't know what to make of it.

Jim watched Abby walk confidently out the front door, unsure of what was happening. "Go on," Lew suddenly commanded from behind the bar. "Don't leave her out in the cold. She hates the cold."

"See you round, Lew," Jim said as he saluted the bartender languidly and followed Abby outside to see her leaning against his bike, arms crossed.

"Hurry up," she said to him. "It's bloody cold."

Jim grinned impishly as he swaggered up to her. "You're finally inviting me back to your place, huh?"

Abby rolled her eyes and stepped away from the bike. "I just need a lift home, mate. Cool your engine." Her plan was to invite him inside but not in the way he was thinking -- Abby just wanted to talk. She had a gift for understanding people, and wanted to help Jim with his new emotional baggage. It was the least she could do after he had rescued her from that burly Starfleet cadet.

"That's what they all say at first," he winked, then straddled the bike after folding down the back of the seat to make the base big enough for two people. "Hop on, Abigail."

"Abby," she corrected, and slipped on behind him. "Wait, no --"

Jim laughed loudly. "I can't believe you fell for that. I can call you Abby now."

"You call me Abby regardless," she muttered, glad he couldn't see her face burning with a blush. The bike started with a low mechanical whine, but Jim stayed stationary, leaning a leg on the ground. "What's wrong?" Abby asked.

"You've got to hang on to me, sweetheart," Jim said easily. "Wouldn't want you to fall and hurt that pretty head of yours."

Abby eyed his waist uneasily. "I'm good, thanks."

"Abby." Jim rolled his eyes, but was curious to her change in mood towards him. It was almost like she was fighting an attraction for him. She was acting just like shy Mary-Beth had, before they had returned to her apartment and he had discovered she wasn't so shy after all. "Hang on to me," he said again. And, just like that, he was struck with an idea for retribution.

Oblivious to Jim's smirk, Abby leant forward and wrapped her arms around Jim's waist. His body was warm and hard beneath her hands, and her body heated in response. Unconsciously she shifted closer, pushing herself against his back. It had been so long since she had been this close to a man, and Abby found she _missed_ it. There was nothing like the feeling of being so warm, so protected, that every man she had ever been close to seemed to project. It didn't even register as strange to her that it was Jim Kirk, she was so engrossed.

Jim made a soft noise in his throat as he felt her chest press up intimately against his back, but covered it by revving the bike. Then they were speeding away into the night, the flat fields around them ghostly lit by the full moon.

After a few minutes Abby closed her eyes, her head nestled against Jim's back. The gruelling six hour shift had drained her, and, she could admit now, so had the attack. All she wanted to do was go home, have a long shower, and fall into bed for as long as she could before leaving for the 0800 Starfleet shuttle. Wait, she wanted to talk to Jim, first. She scrapped the long shower. She would talk to Jim, send him home, then crawl into bed. She could shower in the morning.

Her breathing relaxed, but her arms remained firm around Jim's body, holding on to that sense of security. Another ten minutes passed before the bike started to slow, and by then Abby felt like she could fall asleep right there on the back of the bike, alone with Jim.

The bike stopped with a quiet rumble. "Abby," Jim said softly.

"Mmm?" She breathed in deeply, absorbing the masculine feel and scent of the man in front of her.

"You've got to let go now."

Abby shook her head, arms tightening unconsciously. She felt too comfortable to move, and if that guy would just stop talking, she could slip away into sleep.

"Does this mean you finally want to sleep with me?" Jim asked mischievously.

Abby jerked awake. "No! God." She dismounted the bike and stretched her arms above her head, cracking her back. She brought her arms back down and froze. "Where are we?"

"We're at my place," Jim said smoothly, walking past her and skipping up the porch stairs. He unlocked the front door to the large farmhouse with an electronic pad. A beep sounded, and the door popped open. "I thought we bonded so well tonight, I wanted to continue our conversation. Come inside, have a drink, relax."

Abby shook her head, her stomach twisting nervously. "No, I meant for you to drop me off at my place."

"You never told me where your place was, and I've lost the start-pad for the bike."

"It's right there in your hand," Abby accused.

"Is it?" Watching her gleefully, Jim tossed it into one of the overgrown bushes growing around his porch. "Oh, look at that. It's gone." Abby's jaw dropped, speechless. "Don't worry, sweetheart," Jim coaxed playfully. "I won't bite… unless you want me to."

Her face burned at the remark, and for some reason she was lost for a sarcastic return comment. As much as she didn't want to, Abby knew she had no choice, so she hopped up the stairs and sailed past Jim into the house. The furniture was scarce but comfortable, and she looked around the large living room curiously as she dropped her backpack by the couch. A kitchen could be seen through a doorway to the back, and a flight of stairs lined the left wall leading to a hallway.

"Nice place," she said politely. It wasn't much, but it was more than she had in her small one room rented apartment.

"I couldn't care less," Jim said, going to her side. "Can I get you anything?"

"No." Abby turned to face him. "Let's lay some ground rules, mate. One, just because I'm staying at your house doesn't mean I'm going to sleep with you. Two, I have to get to the Riverside Shipyard by ten to eight so I can catch the eight o'clock Starfleet shuttle, so you're going to have to take me back to my place at seven so I can shower, get some new clothes and pack, and then you'll have to take me to the Riverside Shipyard at seven forty. And three, stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Jim asked with a smirk. He found it strangely amusing to see her so flustered. It was a change from the regular cool, calm persona she always used with him.

"Like you're planning on how to seduce me," she blurted. "I'm not going to sleep with you, Jim."

"You just called me Jim," he pointed out to her. "We're on a first name basis now, Abby. What does that mean?"

"It means nothing," she shot back, scrambling to find her feet.

Jim grinned. "Sure it does. You're warming to me."

"In your dreams, mate," Abby rolled her eyes. Screw talking to him, she thought, she was too tired and annoyed at the turn of events. "Now, point me in the right direction for a blanket and then I'm going to crash on that couch. Big day tomorrow, you know."

"Can I ask you a question?" Jim asked randomly.

Abby took a breath and plonked herself on the rather uncomfortable couch. "Shoot."

Jim sat beside her. The question had been plaguing him ever since he had heard Abby was joining Starfleet, and now after meeting with Pike his curiosity had transformed into an annoying niggle in his gut. "Why Starfleet?"

Abby blinked, not expecting a serious question. She decided to give him a serious answer. "Because I'm meant for something better than being grabbed at behind bars."

"To change that all you have to do is change your job. Why enlist in Starfleet?"

She exhaled, leaning back and smiling tiredly. "The adventure, I guess. Venturing out into the unknown. Fighting the enemy, protecting our way of life. Standing up for the weak. Just being able to help people." Abby studied him, weighing her next words carefully. For some reason, Abby wanted someone to know something personal about her. She hadn't had someone to talk to seriously all year. It felt natural that she was sharing her past with Jim here, on his couch, in his house. For once he wasn't even trying to hit on her, and she enjoyed the change. It made relaxing with him so right, so easy, Abby stopped trying to fight it altogether.

"My mother… she's a Starfleet engineer. I remember one night when I was a little kid, she was on shore leave and she took me stargazing in this field near our house. We just lay there, staring at the stars, and I asked her why she kept leaving me and our family all the time. I didn't understand, not then. And she explained to me, 'Abby, here, you're never alone, and you're never hurt and lost. Out there, there are millions of people who need someone to help them because they _are_ hurt and lost. It's my job to go out and help them to stop hurting and find their homes again.'"

She smiled gently. "Looking back now it sounds sort of cheesy, and to a six-year old it didn't make a whole lot of sense, but looking back now I can understand what she meant. She was right. Here, on Earth, our lives are so simple, so corporate. People don't even care about what happens to other people on their own planet, let alone on another one. In Starfleet I can make a real difference to people's lives. I can stop wars, save planets. On Earth all I can achieve with my life is to become a wicked awesome bartender."

Jim stared at her, thinking over what Abby had just said. Should he join Starfleet? And if he did, who would he be joining for? Pike? His mother? His father?

"You'd be joining for all the people you could save," Abby said gently. At his startled expression she explained, "Oh, you said that out loud. Was I not supposed to hear it?"

Jim studied her. "I know you overheard my conversation with Captain Pike today." Abby blushed. "Do you think I should join Starfleet?"

Unconsciously, Abby took his hand. "I think it's your decision. I'm sorry about your dad."

Jim shrugged as he flipped his hand so he could twine his fingers with hers. "Hell, I didn't even know the guy."

"But that's the point, isn't it?" Abby said softly.

"Depends on how you look at it." Jim tried to appear careless, but inside he knew she was right.

"I only have a handful of memories of my mother, but when things get rough I know I can always fall back on them for comfort. I'm sorry you don't even have even one memory of your dad."

"Like I said, I didn't even know him. You can't miss what you've never had."

"Yes, you can," Abby said, shifting closer. "Every day I saw other kids with their mothers and wished I could be one of them. Don't tell me that wasn't the case with you seeing other children with their fathers."

"My mother found a replacement soon enough," Jim shot back.

"It's not the same, and you know it."

"Why are we even talking about this?"

"It's called being a friend. I sure as hell don't have very many and I know you don't."

He indicated to their joined hands. "I just think you're warming to me."

Abby laughed appreciatively. "Maybe," she said. "Friends aren't supposed to hate each other, you know. It makes being friends kind of hard."

Jim shook his head. "Let me get you that drink," he said, and disappeared into the kitchen. There was the sound of glass clinking and he reappeared with two beers, passing one to Abby. "So, what do friends talk about?" he asked as he sat beside her.

"I have no idea," Abby grinned. "Um… clouds," she decided spontaneously.

"Clouds?"

"Clouds."

Two hours later the coffee table was covered with empty beer bottles. There was even a wine bottle that Jim had managed to dig up from somewhere. Abby was slumped against the side of the couch, her feet in Jim's lap, head buzzing comfortably. Her eyes were closed -- had been closed for several minutes now -- and her mind was drifting away into much-needed sleep.

"Abby?" Jim asked, head tilted back on the couch, eyes closed.

"Mmm?"

"You asleep?"

A smile spread across her face. "Yes." She shifted to a more comfortable position. "I don't think I've ever laughed so much in my life," she confessed sleepily. "We should have become friends ages ago." Now that Jim had stopped trying to get in her pants, Abby found she could relax around him and just get to know him, and let him get to know her in return. Already, Abby knew she could talk to him about anything.

"Yeah," he said as he opened his eyes. Jim felt the same way. He had never taken the time to just sit and talk with a woman, besides his mother, and found he enjoyed it immensely. Abby had a different take on life to all the other men he had met, and he loved it -- loved hearing her unique perspective. Her accent was also pretty… pretty. The fact that she was leaving in a few hours, however, so soon after sharing with him with her personality and insights on life, upset him. "Abby?"

"Mmm?"

He bit his lip, unsure how to proceed. He didn't want to come across as vulnerable or needy, but there really was no other way to come across. "Do you think you could stay tomorrow?" He didn't know why he wanted her to stay, but he did. All he knew was that he loved spending time with her and didn't want it to end after tonight.

She shook her head slowly, eyes still closed. "No can do, mate. I've got a date with destiny," she slurred. Abby opened her eyes but could barely see, it was so clouded with exhaustion and alcohol. "You should come with me."

"Join Starfleet?" he asked, staring at the ceiling.

"Yeah," she yawned, "we could be cadet buddies." She closed her eyes again. "You should come, really. I really like talking to you." Abby made a soft snuffling sound, relaxing further. "Besides, Pike dared you."

Jim sat in silence for a few minutes, mulling over the events of the night, both at the bar and at his house. "I don't think --" he looked at her and cut off, seeing she was fast asleep, dark shadows under her eyes.

He couldn't leave her on the couch -- it was old and lumpy and was the most uncomfortable piece of furniture he had ever seen. He knew she wouldn't be happy about it in the morning, but Jim stood, picked Abby up carefully and carried her up the stairs, trying to ignore how warm and pliant she was in his arms.

She made a small noise and rested her head in the crook of his neck. Jim flicked his eyes up, praying for strength. He would not take advantage of the beautiful intoxicated woman. He carried her into his bedroom and laid her on the bed gently, before carefully removing her shoes and skilfully stripping her jacket from her body without waking her up. Either that, or Abby was simply exhausted, which he highly suspected she was.

Abby shifted suddenly, rolling onto her stomach, her head facing the opposite pillow. Frozen in place, he stared down at her for a moment, ensuring that Abby was truly asleep, before crossing to the other side of the bed. He tugged his shirt off, tossed it onto the ground and laid himself beside Abby in the darkness, lying on his side facing away from the woman. Jim was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Abby opened her eyes sluggishly. There was something around her waist, holding her down. Head already angled downwards, she opened her eyes and saw an arm there. Following it confusedly with her eyes, she saw the arm was attached to a lightly muscled body, which was attached to Jim's sleeping face mere inches from her own.

Abby jolted awake. How did she get into Jim's bed? Surely they hadn't drank so much that -- Abby realised she was still dressed and relaxed minutely. From what she could tell her belt was still buckled up, and that was another fat point in the 'relax' column. A big point in the 'freak out' column was that she had no idea how she had ended up in Jim's bed, with his arm wrapped tightly around her… as if she belonged there.

She managed to manoeuvre herself out of his embrace and moved off the bed soundlessly. Picking up her jacket and shoes, she padded downstairs, ready to venture into the garden for the start-pad for Jim's bike. She really wanted a shower and a change of clothes, and still had to pack for Starfleet. Then she would come back and Jim could take her to the shuttle at Riverside Shipyard. Riding a motorbike couldn't be that hard… Moving through the darkened room slowly, the curtains pulled shut, Abby tried to avoid the coffee table and failed. She swore softly as she kicked her toe, the table screeching softly as it was pushed across the wooden floor.

Hopping on one foot, she forged on to the front door, scowling. Just as she reached it the console to the side of the door flashed the time: twenty to four in the morning. It was way too early to go anywhere -- she had no idea where Jim's house was, and needed light to find her way back to town. Abby groaned and rubbed her eyes. Dropping her shoes beside her backpack she flopped wearily onto the couch, wrapped her jacket around her shoulders and fell asleep again within seconds, stranded until the sun rose.

* * *

Jim opened his eyes, body on high alert. First he noticed Abby was gone, then he heard the sounds of heavy footsteps downstairs followed by a curse -- what sounded like a struggle. Snatching an illegally obtained phaser from his bedside table, he rolled from the bed swiftly and cautiously looked around the doorframe, his back against the wall. Seeing nothing, he darted to the end of the hallway, phaser grasped firmly in his hand, and peered downstairs to see Abby hopping to the front door, holding her foot and hissing angrily.

It took all his self control to not burst into laughter at the spectacle before him. She stared at the console beside the front door before rubbing her eyes and collapsing onto the couch, curling up tightly. He frowned. Why wasn't she coming back to the bed? Sleeping on the couch was like sleeping on a bed of nails, or a bed of rocks. Not even his worst enemy deserved to sleep on that couch, and Abby was now his friend.

After putting the phaser back into the bedside table Jim crept downstairs and swept her into his arms again before marching back upstairs to the bed and placing Abby in it smoothly. He crawled in beside her and kept himself awake the rest of the night, watching to make sure that this time she stayed.

They had only really talked that night, but Abby had changed something inside of him, he realised. Before that night he had been bitter and moody, only concerned with himself and never looking past the moment. Abby had convinced him wholeheartedly that it was worth the effort to think ahead, to think about other people. She was right, so right -- there were millions of people in the universe that needed someone, anyone, to help them. By denying his abilities to be that person, he was denying those people their chances at life.

Jim watched Abby slip deeper into sleep. He was attracted to her, there was no denying it. But now there was a respect there, which he had never experienced with a woman before, save his mother. He valued her quirky opinions -- they were like a breath of fresh air after living alone for so long.

The sun started to creep over the horizon, lighting the dark room. Where everything had been coloured with shades of grey just previously, a gentle beam of sunlight spread slowly over Abby's face, illuminating her brown hair so it shimmered with reds and golds, and transformed the colour of her skin to pale cream and her lips to a delicate pink. Before his mind could fully understand what his body was doing Jim leant down and pressed his lips to hers gently. They were warm and soft under his own, and Jim moved closer.

Then his mind caught up with the situation, and Jim jerked himself back. No, he told himself. He wouldn't risk Abby's friendship for a few nights tangled between the sheets -- because that was all that could happen between them; he wasn't a stay-at-home, commitment sort of guy. Jim looked down at her and was nearly overwhelmed by the urge to kiss her again. Frowning, Jim got out of the bed and raked a hand through his hair. He couldn't stay here, not when she looked like that. He scooped up his shirt and padded downstairs, shaking his head.

When Abby woke up the second time it was daylight, she was alone, and in Jim's bed. "Wha --" she choked, shooting to an upright position. She ran her hands through her hair and looked around blearily. She knew that she hadn't dreamt creeping from his bed during the night, because her toe was throbbing painfully.

"Kitchen," Jim called from downstairs, hearing her startled cry as she woke up.

Abby crawled off the bed and stumbled downstairs to the kitchen, sleep clogging her mind. She rubbed her eyes and gestured blindly toward the stairs. "How did I --"

"I found you on the couch and brought you back up," Jim said easily, leaning his hip against the kitchen bench, a cup of coffee in his hand. "I didn't try anything, I promise," he grinned, lying easily.

"Why?"

"Why didn't I try something?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. Why did you --"

"That couch is from the inner circle of hell. How's your toe by the way?"

Abby narrowed her eyes. "You saw me stub my toe?"

Jim just grinned wider. "Coffee?"

The morning passed quickly. After breakfast they spent several minutes crawling through Jim's front garden, searching for the start-pad for Jim's bike.

"You're an idiot, have I told you that yet?" Abby asked, searching through a large prickly bush on her hands and knees.

"Only about twenty times in the past two minutes," he quipped, buried in the confines of a thick shrub. "Can you see it?"

"If I could see it, I wouldn't still be -- Aha! I found it!" Abby crowed, holding the small key above her head triumphantly. She jumped to her feet and hopped around gleefully, waving the key victoriously. "Now I can go home and have a shower!" She spun around, grinning, and saw Jim watching her with a strange look on his face. "What?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"Nothing," he smirked. "Just witnessing my first 'happy dance.'"

Abby couldn't help the blush that spread over her cheeks. "We women are complex creatures."

"Sure," he said sarcastically. "Come on, I'll take you home."

After collecting her backpack and other belongings Abby recited her address, hopped on the bike behind Jim and wrapped her arms tightly around him -- not so nervous this time, Jim noted in the back of his mind. As promised, he took her to the tiny apartment she had called home for the past year. He stared at it in awe. "You actually live here?" he asked incredulously.

"Lived," Abby corrected. "And yes. You might want to put your shirt over your mouth; I used a whole canister of bug spray last night before work and didn't open any windows. I really hate cockroaches."

"I can see that," Jim remarked as they entered Abby's rental. Dead cockroaches littered the floor -- there had to have been ten of the little pests curled up in death's chokehold. He took stock of the third-rate room. There was a bed against one wall next to a chest of drawers, a tiny kitchenette, a small TV and a ratty couch. A door to the right led, presumably, to a bathroom.

"I'm so happy to be leaving this place," Abby said, dropping her backpack on the bed. She crossed to the chest of drawers and fished out her favourite clothes -- several pairs of jeans and colourful tops ranging in styles and cuts. She stuffed them into her backpack, then moved to the bathroom. "Oh, uh, make yourself at home," Abby said to Jim, smiling weakly in embarrassment. Over the past year she had grown used to the squalor she called home; she had forgotten how much of a dump it was.

He gave her a look that clearly said, '_If I must._'

Grinning, she slipped into the bathroom. "I'll be quick, I promise. Then you can give me a ride to the Starfleet shuttle."

"Okay." Jim stood awkwardly for a moment, before sitting on the couch and turning the TV on. He cruised through the limited channels -- how had she _lived_? -- until Abby emerged, her hair damp. She was wearing the same jeans from the night before, but with a simple black long-sleeved top. She took a moment to adjust to seeing Jim Kirk sitting in her apartment as he stood at her entrance.

"I couldn't afford to get my own uniform," Abby explained as he opened his mouth. "I found out I could pick up some second-hand ones for half the price at the Academy."

He nodded. "I'll bet you'll look real good in a Starfleet uniform," he said suggestively. It was second nature to him to flirt with women -- and though Abby was now his 'friend', as she said constantly, she was no exception.

Abby rolled her eyes. "Yes, that is the true reason I'm joining Starfleet. To 'look real good.'"

"You'll have to send me a picture once you get one."

Pointedly ignoring his comment, Abby quickly scrawled a note for Liz and left it on the small kitchen counter. She was leaving the rest of her belongings and the apartment to her friend, instructing her to do with them what she will. She took a step back and looked around. "Okay, I'm done."

"A single backpack? That's all you're taking?"

"I arrived with less."

He studied her for a moment. Abby stared back at him defiantly, daring he ask why. Jim averted his gaze. "It's seven forty," Jim said. "You ready to sign your life away?"

Abby's gaze softened. "Of course." She led the way out of the dingy apartment to Jim's bike. Then they were speeding away again, this time headed for Riverside Shipyard, where Abby was finally going to enlist in the Starfleet Academy.

Abby pressed herself closer to Jim as they raced over the flat landscape, the cold wind whipping through her hair and reddening her cheeks. They flashed past the Shipyard Bar, but Abby was too consumed by her growing excitement to feel any sadness or to even notice the building in the first place.

Without warning, Jim veered off the road and slowed, putting one foot on the ground to stabilise the bike. Abby lifted her head off his back and gasped. Right in front of them was Riverside Shipyard, and in it, in all its glory, was the shell of a Starfleet starship.

"It's beautiful," Abby whispered, her arms tightening around Jim's waist.

He didn't respond, and Abby could only guess at what he was feeling. He had been on an emotional rollercoaster in the past twelve hours, with Pike, herself and the resurfacing of his father. She felt the urge to kiss the back of his neck or his shoulder for comfort and pushed it aside. She was leaving, and it wouldn't do to dangle Jim in front of her only to leave before anything could come of it.

After another minute Jim restarted the bike and drove to the awaiting shuttle. Abby held on tightly, partly out of nerves and partly out of a sudden desire to never let him go, so soon after she had found him. They rounded a corner and Captain Pike came into view standing in front of the shuttle. Abby swallowed, steeling herself. She could see the surprise on his face but had no idea if it was from seeing her on the back of Jim Kirk's bike or seeing Jim Kirk at the shuttle himself.

Jim parked the bike and Abby jumped off. "I hate goodbyes, so all I'm going to say is that I promise to keep in touch, okay?" She hugged him swiftly. "Thanks for giving me a lift. You're a great friend."

"Nice ride, man," a passing worker said to Jim.

Jim dismounted and disengaged the start-pad. "It's yours." Jim tossed the start-pad at the worker and stepped up to Abby, who looked confused.

"What are you doing?" she asked, not letting herself hope that Jim had decided to come after all.

"You didn't think I'd let you have all the fun, now, did you?" he shot back with a grin.

After a moment, an answering grin spread over Abby's face. "You're coming?!"

Her excitement spread through his body, warming his chest. "Come on," Jim said, placing a hand on the small of her back and guiding her to the shuttle, where Captain Pike was watching the pair approach. "Four years? I'll do it in three," he said cockily to Pike as he followed Abby into the shuttle.

Being so short, Abby passed under the metal support beam with ease, but Jim hit his head with a loud _clank_. Abby bit her lip to keep from laughing as she gave him a condescending look. He smirked back at her, and saluted some cadets as they passed -- which Abby recognised as the cadets who had been fighting Jim the night before -- with a carefree, "At ease, gentlemen."

They moved into the next carriage where they found three empty seats. Abby took the second and Jim the first, leaving the third free. After fumbling with the strange seatbelts, they managed to figure them out and buckle up.

Jim looked over to the opposite side of seated cadets and grinned. Abby looked and saw the beautiful African girl seated down a few seats, who rolled her eyes at Jim's grin.

"Never did get that first name," he said to her, and Abby found herself fighting a tendril of jealousy as the cadet smiled.

Abby snarled at herself. Just because Jim was now coming with her didn't mean that he was coming for _her_. He was coming for what they had spoken about last night -- what joining Starfleet meant.

"You need a doctor," a loud female voice commanded, drawing the attention of everyone present in the shuttle carriage.

"I told you people, I don't need a doctor, damn it, I am a doctor!"

"You need to get back to your seat."

"I _had_ one in the bathroom with no windows," he retorted exasperatingly. Jim and Abby exchanged a look.

"You need to get back to your seat right now," the woman pressed, herding the tall, dark-haired man with a strange accent to the seat beside Abby.

"I suffer from aviaphobia. It means fear of dying in something that flies!"

"Sir, for your own safety, sit down, or else I'll make you sit down!"

Jim and Abby stared at the man curiously, who nodded reluctantly and sat beside Abby.

"Fine," he said.

"Thank you," the woman replied calmly, and walked away.

Pike's voice came over the intercom. "This is Captain Pike. We've been cleared for takeoff."

The dark-haired man leant over to Abby. "I may throw up on you," he said.

Abby shot a startled glance to Jim, instantly wishing he would offer to trade seats.

Jim saw the mild panic in Abby's eyes and couldn't suppress the sudden obligation he felt to protect her. "I think these things are pretty safe," he said to the man, leaning forward.

"Don't pander to me, kid. One tiny crack in the hull and our blood boils in thirteen seconds. A solar flare might crop up, cook us in our seats. And wait till you're sitting pretty with a case of Andorian shingles. See if you're so relaxed when your eyeballs are bleeding."

Abby shrank back from the strange man and shifted closer to Jim, unconsciously searching for that sense of safety he always seemed to project towards her.

"Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence," he finally finished.

"Well, I hate to break this to you, but Starfleet operates in space," Jim said sardonically.

"Yeah, well, I got nowhere else to go. The ex-wife took the whole damn planet in the divorce. All I got left is my bones." He took a swig from a silver flask, and after a moment's hesitation, offered it to Abby, who was now pale against Jim's side.

She took it gratefully and took a deep swallow, much to the stranger's surprise. Jim wasn't, after seeing Abby's heroic liquor consumption in the early hours of the morning. Now he recalled it, he was surprised at her lack of a hangover. He had been nursing a small headache all morning. Abby passed the flask to Jim.

"Jim Kirk," he introduced, holding the flask in the air.

"Abby Abrams," Abby quickly put in.

"McCoy. Leonard McCoy," the man said.

Jim passed the flask back and leant back in his seat. Abby relaxed too -- the liquor in the bottle had been strong and was now burning comfortably in her stomach. Now she truly felt ready for the future -- and Jim, her first friend in a long time, was even along for the ride. She grinned to herself, immensely pleased.

* * *

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